"History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation."
Those are some of the ironically memorable words that the great Julian Barnes put into the mouth of the smartest person (and there are a lot of smart people there) in his magnetic
-- the most densely intelligent little novel written last year (it deservedly won the Man Booker prize). I mention this because perhaps by blogging about a riotously fun weekend I just experienced I can in effect extend its life beyond imperfect memory. See, last weekend was the best!